Roughing It - Part 2

Whoever told João that this was an easy hike either didn't understand our path or wanted the American to die. This was the hardest hike I have ever done in my life, and probably the hardest I will ever do.

For the first day, we walked 7 hours up some seriously steep terrain. The last quarter was more like rock climbing. My pack weighed almost 25 pounds, and the pressure from the backpack dug into my collarbone, lower back and hip bones, so if I adjusted the pressure off one body part, another part would suffer even more.

My hiking stance included arms positioned at 45 degree angles in front of me attached to dangling hands. I looked like a tired T-Rex after a long day of hunting.

When we finally reached the summit on Saturday, the view was breathtaking. Layers of colored mountains fell on top of one another in all directions, and you could see the city of Rio de Janeiro begin to sparkle in the dusk.

João and I, however, were far from sparkling. We were both sick the day before, and the trip severely worsened our condition. Only later did we realize that both of us would have stayed home to recover, had we not felt bad about backing out on the other person. We were quarantined in the same tent and a complete mess. With white Vic's Vapo-rub smeared across half his face, he was incapable of even picking up a flashlight. I was coughing up the lovely remnants of chronic bronchitis. Both of us were terrified of going outside the tent because of the furious wind atop the literally freezing temperature.

Here was my terrible dilemma: Being sick, I knew I should drink lots of water. But drinking would mean more "bathroom" trips outside the comparative comfort of the small tent. I pulled out my Portuguese phrase book and turned to the section on health. Everything I read seemed to be perfect, and I started loudly saying things like:

-- I need a doctor who speaks English.
-- Could the doctor come here?
-- You need to be admitted to a hospital!

This seemed to cheer João up enough to groan a little quieter.

After waking up throughout the night because of the wind, the guide we hired loudly woke us up at 6:15 a.m. If we wanted to reach our next destination in time, we had to leave in 20 minutes. Four people decided to head back, and five continued. Although João and I didn't want to leave the group, we realized that our health was more important.
We tagged along with another group so as not to get completely lost in the wilderness. The leader, Marcelo, does the trek about twice a month. On the way down, Marcelo showed us the way to a pond and waterfall, where we cooked up a gourmet lunch of chicken cup o' noodles.

Another man in the group was a gym teacher, and said I am the only American he's come across who tries to speak Portuguese.

After the hiking adventure, Marcelo gives us a ride to his hometown of Rio, where we catch a bus home. It took THREE buses to get there so this is much better. He insisted we come back to Rio soon so he can show us around. I wondered if this was typical for Brazil, but it turns out it's a rarity to find someone so generous.

Despite the challenges, the people were great and the excursion was worth it.